My hand lay gently inside his and I squeezed it. “I care for you deeply.”
“I know you do.” He pulled me a little closer. “That’s why this confounded hope inside me won’t die.”
“You know we’re going to Europe.”
“Of course I do.”
“My aunt has her sights set on an aristocratic match.”
“I would be blind and foolish not to know that.”
“Then why do you ask me this question?”
He sighed, but there was a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Perhaps I had hoped you would be willing to elope.”
I didn’t even bother to respond to his statement. It was out of the question, for both of us. His family would disown him if he did something like that. And, despite my reservations, I’d made a promise to Aunt Maude. She’d spent so much money on me. I needed to marry a titled lord to help pay it back.
It was the reason I couldn’t love Alec.
“Do you want to live in England and be married to a stodgy earl or duke?” he asked, his mood darkening.
It would be easy to pretend with George, like I did with all the others, but I didn’t want to. “No.”
“Then why are you agreeing to it?”
I gave him a look. “How many young women in this room have a choice?” For me, the alternative wasn’t worth thinking about.
“I won’t hide my affections, Clara,” he said, pulling me even closer. “The whole world will know I’m in love with you. And no matter which earl or duke your aunt picks for you, he’ll always know that you have my heart.”
We were silent as we finished our waltz and when it was done, several men approached, asking to be placed on my dance card. I glanced around, looking for Alec, hoping he’d ask me for a dance.
He was standing near Annabelle, and they were laughing together as he wrote his name on her card.
Jealousy wrapped around my heart as men vied for my attention. I absently said yes to whomever asked but couldn’t take my eyes off Alec and Annabelle. Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes shone as she smiled at him.
When Alec turned and caught my eye, he paused, but I couldn’t read his expression.
Instead of approaching, smiling, or even acknowledging that he knew me, he turned and walked away.
Tears burned at the backs of my eyes, and I had to blink furiously to keep them at bay as the strains of the next dance began.
My partner found me and soon we were circling around the room.
I tried not to let Alec’s rejection hurt. I’d never had his affection, so I shouldn’t feel such pain at the loss of it.
Dance after dance, I faced a new, eager partner, all of them wealthy and among the social elite. Their compliments flowed like honey off their practiced tongues. It became sickeningly sweet and cloyed at my mood. If they knew me—the real me—they wouldn’t be saying such things. How many of these men had noticed me on opening night at the Metropolitan Opera House when I had stood outside selling fabric flowers?
Only one. Alec.
My head began to hurt and I needed a break. I should have looked for Aunt Maude, my chaperone, to walk with me into Mrs. Vanderbilt’s garden, but I didn’t have enough time—nor did I have the patience to listen to her critiques.
I slipped through the crowd and moved toward the doors, stepping out into the cool evening.
There were torches around the beautiful garden, spilling light onto the hedge-lined paths. A large gazebo sat at the back of the property, along with benches throughout.
I moved away from the house, the cold March air making gooseflesh rise on my bare skin.
Several couples meandered through the parklike setting, though I couldn’t make out their features. As I walked along the path, I noticed a man sitting on a bench under the branches of a weeping willow.
